


Democracy and the Great Outdoors

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-15
Updated: 2001-04-15
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	1. Democracy and the Great Outdoors

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Title: Fates Interwoven: Democracy and The Great Outdoors  
Author: Jenny M.  
Archive: Please do.  
Author's Note: This is the seventh story in the Fates Interwoven series. I suggest reading them in order for full understanding. The order is:  
Auspicious Beginnings  
Hello Again, Cookie  
Dark, Light, and The Blues  
Snapshots  
'Til The World Ends  
Traveling Companion

Author's Note 2: Will Detrixhe has appeared in: Hello Again, Cookie; Dark, Light, and The Blues; and Traveling Companion. Marie appears in 'Til The World Ends.

********

Heaven knows what a girl can do.  
Heaven knows what you've got to prove.  
\- Garbage

********

June 14, 1995  
DNC Headquarters  
Communications Division  
Washington, D.C.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

CJ's perplexed expression transformed into one of amusement as she recognized the source of the sound coming from Toby's new office. Though, she supposed after four months, the day was quickly approaching when she should stop thinking of it as such and rather as 'Toby's office.'

The desk outside his office was empty, and CJ was surprised only for a moment, until she remembered Marie was out of town for the week for her younger sister's wedding, and she wondered briefly how long the latest temp lasted before racing out of the building sobbing.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The rhythmic beat grew louder as she approached the door. It was open slightly, allowing her to peek in and see a small, pink rubber ball fly through the air, then disappear as quickly as it appeared. CJ paused just outside the door and timed it's appearance with relation to the sound.

Ball. Thump. Ball. Pause. Pause. Ball. Thump. Ball. Pause. Pause.

Timing her move carefully, her hand rested on the door handle. Ball. Thump. She quickly opened the door and reached out her hand. Ball.

Toby shot her a menacing glare as she fell onto the couch, the ball still in her hand. Unfortunately for him, she had apparently grown immune to his glares sometime during their relationship. So, he watched quietly while listening to the voice on the other end of the phone, as she relaxed; laying her head on the arm of the sofa, and placing her crossed legs a top the back against the wall, causing her skirt to inch up slightly revealing a inch or so of previously covered skin. She began to toss the ball up into the air and catch it.

Resting the phone between his ear and shoulder, he opened a desk drawer and reached in to come up with another identical ball. Reclining back in his chair, he resumed throwing the ball against the opposite wall, only a foot or so above CJ. She didn't flinch as it hit and bounced back to his hand.

Their actions quickly became tuned to the other.

Thump. Pause. Pause. Thump. Pause. Pause. Thump.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Toby said goodbye and hung up the phone with a heavy sigh.

"Irresponsible or reckless?"

"In regard to," she asked without turning her head.

"The President's tax plan."

"Irresponsible."

"Yeah," agreed Toby, laying his ball down to scratch the change on the press release in front of him and place it on a stack at the corner of his desk. He looked back to CJ, as she gracefully placed her legs on the floor and sat up.

"You busy?"

"Yes," he answered shortly, his actions clearly contradicting his words as he caught the ball she tossed to him and tossed it back.

"I, on the other hand-"

"CJ," Toby warned, knowing where she was going with this.

"I could take a three week vacation my schedule is so clear." She threw the ball to him.

"Most people would consider that a good thing."

"I don't," she replied emphatically. "And neither do you, so don't try to sell me that. Toby, I'm-"

"Don't say it," he quickly interrupted.

"I'm bored," continued CJ, ignoring his protests.

"Have you no concept of tempting fate," he asked in exasperation.

"Toby," she moaned. "I've come to the conclusion that not only does fate need to be tempted, but perhaps it needs to be provoked! The most difficult question I was asked by a reporter today was from the editor of the Food Section of the Dayton Daily News. She wanted to know whether Mrs. Hayden uses bread flour or all purpose flour in the recipe for her famous tea muffins."

He chuckled quietly as they continued to toss the ball.

"This isn't funny," insisted CJ, her lips curling up into a wry smile. "He doesn't do anything controversial. He doesn't say anything remotely remarkable. He doesn't vote for anything without checking the polls first."

"Sounds like a Press Secretary's nightmare," he observed dryly.

"I'm bored!"

At that moment, a woman walked into the office carrying a large stack of files. "Here are the files you asked for." She looked up in surprise as she saw the pink rubber ball fly past her face. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't realize you were busy."

"It's okay, Ginger," replied Toby. "Uh, Ginger, this is CJ Cregg."

CJ studied the woman in front of her. She looked young, maybe college age. Her long strawberry blond hair was pulled back in a barrette and her eyes were bright blue. She looked familiar, but CJ couldn't figure out where she had seen her before.

"CJ, this is Ginger Detrixhe."

Her head snapped over to Toby in recognition. "Detrixhe?"

He nodded. "Will's niece."

The young woman tried to shift the files she held to one arm and awkwardly reached out to shake CJ's hand and smile somewhat nervously. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Cregg. My uncle speaks very highly of you."

CJ smiled warmly. "Please call me CJ, and your uncle is flirt. Do you work here?"

"As an intern," nodded Ginger.

"Where do you do to school?"

"I'm a senior at Seton Hall."

"She's covering for Marie while she's gone," Toby cut in. Ignoring CJ's raised eyebrow, he turned to Ginger. "Those are the files I need?"

"Yes," she quickly replied, setting the large stack on the desk in front of him. She divided it into two small piles. "This everything I could find on Mr. Coen," she gestured to one stack. "And these are on Ms. Webster."

"Okay."

"I've separated them into their speeches and public statements, articles about or that include them, and various independent information," said Ginger. "And I've arranged them in chronological order."

"Fine."

"Is there anything else you needed," she asked.

"Yeah, I need information on the 6th district in Virginia; it's makeup, economical, cultural, historical, and most importantly political," Toby listed, preoccupied with the files in front of him, as Ginger quickly jotted down what he was saying. "Anything you can find. Focus on how it has changed in the last few elections. See if you can find any correlating trends. Check out the local papers and see which way they lean and what kind of impact they make on public opinion. Also get all the information you can on any polls the DNC has conducted in that district in the last five years. I need that and a summarization no longer than fifteen pages."

"Toby," CJ said quietly. The slight hint of warning in her voice went undetected by Ginger, but practically screamed in Toby's ear.

He looked up to see the reproving look in her eye. Ginger watched uncomfortably as a silent conversation seemed to take place between the two friends. Finally, Toby sighed and turned back to his temporary assistant. "Wait until tomorrow and grab another researcher to help you. Also, check my schedule and block off a time in the afternoon for us to go over what you've found."

She nodded silently, as he turned his attention back to the files and said, "That's all for today."

"Okay."

"But, be here early tomorrow to get started on that," added Toby.

"Yes, sir," she smiled.

"It was nice to meet you, Ginger," said CJ and stood up from her place on the couch.

When she left the office, CJ looked back at Toby. "What's this all about?"

"Virginia 6th."

"Roanoke?"

"And Lynchburg and Harrisburg," added Toby. "Roessler's retiring after this term."

"He's always retiring," she shrugged her shoulders. "What's new?"

"It's real this time."

"Republicans are going to be gunning for his seat, and you need a strong candidate," she gathered.

"Yeah."

"So, why are you dealing with it and not the Campaign Division?"

"Because the Mid-Atlantic Director doesn't agree with the Virginia State Director's candidate and has a candidate of her own. Roessler won't give a straight opinion on either one, and Sloane," he said, referring to the Chairman of the DNC, "has decided to ruin my weekend, by making me go down to Virginia, meet both of the candidates and decide which one gets our support. So," concluded Toby, "if you have any ideas as to what I've done to Sloane to deserve this punishment, I would be happy to hear them."

"Perhaps it's your tie," she suggested helpfully, eliciting a baneful glare from Toby.

"Go away."

She laughed. "Come on, Toby. This is exciting! You'll be helping people choose the person that will represent them in their government. It's the democratic process in all it's glory."

He looked up, skepticism in his eyes. "The democratic process? A guy from Brooklyn picking which person will best serve the DNC so we can dump a lot of money into his or her campaign, most of which comes from people who couldn't find Roanoke on a map?"

"Well, if that's the way you're going to look at it."

He just sighed and went back to his reading.

"Toby?"

"What?"

"I'm bored."

 


	2. Democracy and the Great Outdoors 2

 

June 17, 1995   
CJ's apartment   
7:30 a.m. 

He had barely finished knocking on her door when it swung open. Surprise lit her face for a split second, then faded into a familiar grin. "Hello."

Before he could reply, she turned back into her apartment, leaving him no choice but to follow.

"Did you read Karen Cahill's column today," she called over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.

"Do I want to?"

The television was tuned to CNN Morning News and three newspapers were laid open on the bar counter in front of a half empty bowl of granola and glass of orange juice. Comfortable in the simple patterns and rhythms of their friendship, they settled down at the bar. She continued to eat her granola as he grabbed the Times to read the aforementioned column.

"Have you had breakfast?"

Not taking his eyes from the paper, he silently nodded towards the styrofoam cup of coffee he had set on the counter.

"Where I come from, we don't consider a cup of coffee and a cigarette an acceptable breakfast."

"Where I come from, it's the accustomed breakfast," he said preoccupied, then looked up from the paper. "What did he do to her?"

"I don't know," laughed CJ, "but that's three in as many weeks. Whatever he did he better apologize soon." She finished the last of her orange juice and stood up to place the dirty dishes in the sink. "So, what's going on, Toby? Wait," she said, turning around, "I thought you were going to Virginia today."

"*We* are," he replied, checking his watch. "And we need to leave in about forty five minutes, so I suggest you change," said Toby, eyeing her pajamas, a small red t-shirt and baggy cotton pants. Her feet were bare and her hair was pulled back with a small clip.

Her eyes narrowed and studied him suspiciously. "Why am I going?"

The corners of his lips curled up into a sly grin, only amplifying her suspicions. "Because you are my dear friend, and-"

"Oh, God," groaned CJ.

"-I want to share with you the opportunity to view the 'democratic process in all it's glory,'" he said, throwing her earlier words back at her.

"I'm being punished," she concluded darkly.

"You tempted fate."

"And you're fate's little helper?"

"Well, I'm not comfortable with the 'little' part," his pretense of annoyance undermined by the amused glint in his eyes.

CJ crossed her arms, marking a defiant pose. "I already have plans for the day."

The smirk on his lips now clearly visible. "I'm sure your shoe closet can go unorganized for another day."

Her arms dropped as she recognized the words from her tirade the day before. 'My big project for the weekend? Organizing my shoe closet by color.' She looked at Toby, who had a triumphant expression on his face. "Damn."

********

Downtown Office Building   
Roanoke, VA   
2:30 p.m. 

"I don't know which is worse," CJ said as they walked out of the office building from their meeting with Virginia State Senator, Douglas Coen, "the fact that he voted for a bill to make the waltz the official state dance, or the fact that such a bill actually came to a vote in the first place."

"No," replied Toby. "The worst thing was your joke about how heated the debates must have been, prompting him to spend the next fifteen minutes recounting the arguments for and against."

"Actually, I think we both learned a very important political lesson there."

"What's that?"

"That the Virginia Waltz Society is not a group to be taken lightly."

He didn't say anything, but she could see the small smile hiding beneath beard as they continued to walk down the sidewalk to his parked car. CJ couldn't help but notice what a nice day it was. They sky was a perfect robin's egg blue, lightly speckled with white clouds. The trees and grass were glorious shades of green. She was glad she had decided to dress casually in a pair of khaki shorts and crisp white short sleeved shirt. Toby, on the other hand, had to be uncomfortable she thought, dressed in his usual suit and tie.

"Toby?"

"Yeah?"

"This is punishment for tempting fate, right?"

"Yes."

And I tempted fate by saying I was bored?"

"Yes."

"See, I thought tempting fate by saying I was bored meant fate would strike back by making me unbelievably busy."

"Is that what you wanted to happen?"

"Yes!"

"Then that wouldn't be very effective punishment, would it?"

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't counter his logic. "I'm saying, that that was most purposeless and boring meeting I have ever been in."

"And how long have you been in politics, CJ," asked Toby, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and took pity on her. "The next candidate should prove more interesting."

"I doubt she could be less interesting," she retorted good naturedly, as they reached his car. "What time are we supposed to meet her?"

"We need to be in Lexington in two hours."

"Great," commented CJ. "We have time to grab a bite to eat."

"There's a diner on the corner."

They were about to reach the small diner, when CJ spotted a park across the street. "Toby, let's get a couple sandwiches and take them to the park."

Toby twisted his neck to look at her strangely. "And let them play on the monkey bars?"

"Eat the sandwiches at the park," she clarified, rolling her eyes.

"Why?" The lack of enthusiasm in his voice was clear.

She shrugged her shoulders. "It'll be like a picnic. It's gorgeous outside, let's enjoy it."

"Let's enjoy it indoors," Toby suggested strongly, "where there is air conditioning and waiters and no bugs."

"You don't like the outdoors," CJ accused incredulously as he opening the door.

"No."

********

CJ's apartment   
Washington, D.C.   
9:40 p.m. 

The stars were just beginning to appear in the nighttime sky as they arrived back at her apartment from what she had taken to calling in her own mind, 'A Look at the Glory of the Democratic Process.'

Lindsay Webster, was in fact, infinitely more interesting than Doug Coen, CJ was relieved to discover. A former History professor before becoming the Vice President of Washington and Lee University, she impressed CJ with her habit of grounding her arguments in historical perspectives, often bringing new insights to an old subject.

More importantly to CJ, however, was Toby's reaction to the older woman. Over the past several weeks, she had observed him acting quieter and slightly more withdrawn than usual. It was a small, almost unnoticeable change. CJ had noticed it, however, though she was unsure how to help.

Perhaps it was the woman's passion in her beliefs that ignited his passions in his. Perhaps she presented a new challenge to him, intellectual realms not yet explored. Whatever the reason, Lindsay Webster found the man CJ knew and called him back.

Toby's behavior on the drive back to Washington stood in stark contrast to earlier in the day. He became so engaged in arguing his point, that several times CJ had to remind him to pay attention to the road. Mention of a recent survey ranking the U.S. Presidents led to a discussion on the lack of historical long term memory of many Americans, which extended into a debate on the media's role in the rehabilitation of Nixon in the public arena before he died, which became a friendly argument over the identity of Deep Throat, and through it all Toby groused about CJ's habit of station surfing on the radio.

She laughed at his feigned anger about the radio and smiled at his animated gestures and the spark in his eyes as they argued.

It had been more than twelve hours since they left that morning when they arrived back at her apartment. It was late, yet it was still early. When he walked her to her door, she invited him in like she had done so many times before. Andy was in New York like she was almost every weekend, and CJ knew Toby would wind up at his office before going home to their empty townhouse. He demurred for a moment, then accepted like she knew he would; hoped he would. His home wasn't the only place that felt empty sometimes.

As was their natural habit, they went to the kitchen. He flipped on the television to see what had happened in the world today. She started to search her cabinets for something to fix for dinner. Disgusted with the celebrity guest on Larry King, he turned the channel to C-SPAN for the British House of Commons Questioning of the Prime Minister.

"How does an omelet sound," CJ asked, already taking the ingredients out of the refrigerator. "Tomatoes, onions, green peppers, and cheese."

"You're determined to get me to eat breakfast one way or another, aren't you?"

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "We all have to have our pet causes."

He just snorted derisively as he reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

"A beer, Toby?"

"I'll eat your no - meat omelet," he retorted, "but I'm going to have a beer."

********

She noted with satisfaction, but didn't dare comment when he cleaned his plate. He stood and put his dishes in the sink, then grabbed his discarded jacket and tie off the back of the chair. "I should start writing my report for Sloane."

"Toby, go home. Give Andy a call. The report can wait until Monday." She saw the almost imperceptible flinch of his eyes at his wife's name.

Before she could question it, however, he replied, "I have a conference call with Sloane and McNeil tomorrow afternoon and I need to figure out how to tell the Mid-Atlantic Director of the DNC that he is dead wrong without offending him, because-"

"Why," interrupted CJ, confused.

"Because he raises a lot of money for the party."

"No, why would you tell him he's wrong?"

Toby sighed. "CJ, she can't win."

"Because she's a woman?" Her tone was dangerously quiet.

"Yes, because she's a woman. She's a woman, liberal academic," said Toby, "and you know as well as I do that the Virginia 6th would never elect her."

"If the DNC put their full weight-"

"She would still lose and we'd be throwing our money and seat in the House away," he argued.

"So, you're going to run Doug Coen."

"He's got the best chance at winning, CJ. He's charismatic-"

"Like a used car salesmen," she said loudly. "He's more conservative than some of the Republican's in the House, Toby."

"He's a Southern Democrat."

"Well then, both of you need to take a glance at the Democratic platform some time," countered CJ. "He might as well be a Republican. He supports restrictions on a woman's right to choose and affirmative action. He opposes restrictions on guns. He dodges questions on Social Security and the Patient's Bill of Rights. I doubt he's ever met the environmental lobby-"

"I don't give a damn if he's really a Fascist, CJ," he yelled. "As long as he has a little 'D' by his name, he helps the Majority Leader stay the Majority Leader and it doesn't matter how he'd vote on a woman's right to choose or affirmative action because they'd never be put on the table to begin with! On anything else, he'll vote the way the leadership tells him to, because I think we can both agree the only thing he's interested in is the title of 'Congressmen.'

"Why should he listen to the Leadership," she asked. "You won't seriously consider running anyone else for the seat, what's to stop him?"

"CJ, she can't win. The Virginia 6th won't elect a woman."

"And they never will if the DNC doesn't get their heads out of their asses long enough to throw their support behind one! She might not win this one, but in the long run-"

"The long run's not my problem right now," argued Toby. "My problem is keeping a majority in the House, and to do that I need to pick the person that actually has a chance at winning, and that's Coen!"

They were both standing now, their faces red from arguing. This was simply another pattern of their relationship, they knew. They were both passionate people that had no problem disagreeing with the other. They had traveled this path together before, but something whispering in the back of their minds told them that this time they wouldn't end up in the usual truce. They were about to turn a corner they had never been before, their momentum refusing to stop and regain it's bearings.

"And your naive idealism aside, CJ, you know I'm right!"

Her eyes hardened. "Simple years of experience doesn't equate wisdom, Toby!"

They inched closer to the edge.

"I've worked on three successful political campaigns," she sneered. "How many have you worked on?"

Suddenly, they were off the map, into an unfamiliar territory with no clear way back and nothing to hold on to.

 

 


	3. Democracy and the Great Outdoors 3

 

Bibere humanum est, ergo bibamus.   
To drink is human, let us therefore drink.

********

June 28, 1995   
CJ's apartment   
Washington, D.C. 

It was the oldest excuse in the book.

She said it unconvincingly and he accepted it unblinkingly. He paid the check and took her back to her apartment, placed a quick kiss on her lips and promised to call.

Perhaps she should be concerned that he didn't seem to see through her thin lie to inquire what was really bothering her. Perhaps she should be concerned with the doubt that she would have told him the truth had he asked.

She couldn't summon the will to do either.

Perhaps she should be concerned about that as well.

The reality was that all thoughts of Tad Whitney quickly disappeared from the edges of her mind the moment the door closed behind him. She laid her coat down and sank onto her couch, resting her head against the cool surface of the wall.

She missed her brothers. Ryan and Curtis held the view that laughter was the solution to any problem. They would jump around doing impersonations of their teachers, family, and movie stars. They would serenade her, voices horribly off key and words invariably wrong. If all else failed, they would tickle her until she couldn't breath. These sessions always ended with her being tossed fully clothed into the pool, and all three laughing hysterically.

She missed her lover. Dan would hold her and stroke her hair as she talked about everything that was wrong. He would listen to everything and whisper reassuring words into her ear. Then, he would kiss her and promise to make her forget the rest of the world for the night.

She missed her friend. Toby didn't make her talk. He didn't make her listen. He didn't try to make her forget her problems and he didn't try to solve them. Yet, somehow he always made her feel better.

Ryan was California. Curtis was somewhere in the middle of the Pacific on a Naval ship. They wouldn't be making her laugh tonight.

Dan wasn't her lover anymore. She couldn't count on his soft caresses and sweet words.

And Toby...

With a sigh, she stood up and grabbed her coat.

********

The Quiet Man   
Downtown Washington, D.C. 

The words on the page began to blur, the black ink appeared to twist and contort into indistinguishable patterns. It didn't really matter. He knew by experience these scribbles wouldn't mean much in the light of day. Yet, he still held the pen over the yellow legal pad and tried to write.

Pausing for a moment, he lifted his glass and drink. As he lowered it from his mouth, the amber liquid captured his attention; the way it caught the light from the small overhead lamp, splintering it into a million tiny rays.

The thoughts he had been working to escape came racing back. He wondered if he was ever quite out of their grasp.

He heard her low voice taunting him with his political failures. He saw her deep brown eyes tormenting him with his personal failures.

Failure, he thought and lifted the glass back up, downing the rest of his drink.

********

CJ laughed when he first brought her here. The Quiet Man. It just sounded like the name of a bar Toby would frequent. Its only outward acknowledgment was the small, weather worn board above the door, bearing it's name in old english letters. The front windows were frosted, precluding anyone from looking in.

When she first walked in, CJ felt like she had been transported to the 1940's. An old-fashioned bar ran along the left, the bottles of alcohol filling the cabinets on the wall behind it. The entire place was dimly lit with small lamps on the walls and tables. She found it easy to imagine Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn drinking in one of the narrow booths in the back of the room.

When her cab pulled up in front of the bar, however, she hesitated. What if Toby wasn't inside? Perhaps, the more important question was, what if he was? They hadn't seen or spoken to one another since the fight almost two weeks ago.

That was how she referred to it. The fight. It was silly, really. They had certainly argued before. They often vociferously disagreed over various political views. It was one of the distinct characteristics of their friendship. There was something oddly reassuring in that.

This time was different, though. This time he didn't just disagree with her. He didn't just argue with her. He did something much worse, something he had never done before. He dismissed her. Instead of debating the merits of her argument, he dismissed it and her as naive.

Hurt and angry, she struck back. Using her private knowledge of him, she struck him where he was most vulnerable. Even through her anger, she saw the impact of her words; the slight slump of his shoulders, the way his eyes blazing with fervor went flat. She watched silently as he focused his gaze intently on the floor, then turned around slowly and quietly walked out her door.

Suddenly aware she had been standing on the sidewalk outside the bar for several minutes now, CJ took a deep breath and opened the door. Approaching the bar, a smile overtook her face as she saw older man standing behind it.

"Hey, Mickey."

"Well, if it isn't the most beautiful woman in D.C.," he exclaimed. "I thought you'd forgotten about ole' Mickey."

"That's impossible, Mickey. You're unforgettable," flirted CJ.

The smile dropped from his face. "He's in the back booth," he said. "Been here every night this week."

Sure enough, she turned to see Toby sitting in the last booth in the back of the room. His face was obscured in the shadows, but his pain he was feeling was obvious to her even from across the room.

"What can I get you drink?"

Not taking her eyes off his dark form, she answered the bartender. "Give me a moment. Will ya, Mickey?"

********

He felt her presence a split second before he heard her lilting voice.

"Of all the gin joints in all the world, he walks into mine."

The silence between them was almost painful as she stood next to the booth; he didn't look up, but slowly reached for his recently filled glass and took a drink. After several awkward seconds, he spoke, "it's, 'of all the gin joints *in all the towns* in all the world, she walks into mine.'" He set his scotch down and looked at her for the first time that night. "And I think that's supposed to be my line."

CJ attempted to hide her shock at his red rimmed eyes with an crooked grin. "That's okay," she said, sliding into the booth. "You say it better anyway."

"I didn't say you could sit down."

"I didn't ask."

Under hooded lids, his black eyes locked onto her bright green ones. Time became irrelevant was they communicated without words.

"I recommended Lindsay Webster for the seat in the House," Toby finally broke the silence, his voice low.

"Really?"

"No," he replied quickly, "but, I wanted to."

CJ was quiet for a moment, then smiled sadly. "I know you did."

She knew he meant it, and he knew she understood. It amazed him sometimes; how they could do that. He didn't give it a lot of thought, however, for fear it would disappear.

She waited a moment, then leaned across the table, her expression serious. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He didn't need to ask what she was talking about and he didn't have to think about his answer. "No."

"Okay."

Toby blinked in surprise, not expecting her to give up so easily, yet happy she seemed to be doing just that.

"Mickey," she called other to the bartender. When he approached the booth, she turned to Toby and asked, "What are you having?"

"Double scotch," supplied Mickey, ignoring Toby's glare.

"I'll have the same," said CJ. "And keep them coming."

"CJ," started Toby, as the older man walked away. He didn't finish his question aloud, rather with his eyes.

"Well, isn't that the plan," she asked. "You don't want to talk about whatever is bothering you, so you're here getting drunk." She shrugged. "I will, too."

If it were anyone else, Toby would think they were trying to guilt him into talking about it, or wear him down until he talked. He knew she wasn't doing either. She was just being there. "You don't have to," he said as Mickey sat her drink on the table.

"I want to." Their eyes met. CJ smiled and raised her glass. "What shall we drink to?"

"Tempting fate," offered Toby, raising his own glass.

"How about democracy in all its forms?"

"Democracy," he echoed. They clicked glasses and each took a long drink of their scotch.

Toby almost laughed as her face scrunched up.

"May I see your pen?"

"What are you doing," he asked as she took his pen and began to write on a napkin.

"I'm writing down my address, so when we stumble out of here tonight, I won't have to try to remember it. I can just hand this to the cab driver."

He didn't tell her that it was her address he remembered when he stumbled out of bars at night.

********

He really didn't want to interrupt them. It had taken awhile, but they were finally talking and laughing, occasionally arguing loudly before laughing again. Through it all, they drank. "Hey, Nick and Nora," he called. "I gotta close shop."

Toby just sighed as CJ looked around in surprise to find the place empty. "Mickey," she said seriously. "Our goal was to get drunk; tight; plastered; drunk."

"You succeeded, sweetheart."

"Thank you," she smiled victoriously.

"I called a cab for you. It's waiting outside."

"Mickey, you are the best bartender in the world, you know that," asked CJ as Toby drained his rest of his drink. With a little effort, he stood up and searched his pockets for his wallet. Pulling out a fifty dollar bill, he handed it to the older man and held his hand out to CJ. "Ms. Cregg," he intoned.

"Mr. Ziegler," she replied, her attempt to match his solemn tone ruined by a girlish giggle.

He helped her into the cab and while she started to hand the napkin with her address on it to the driver, she looked at him. "Aren't you getting in?"

He looked around the dark street and then back to her questioning eyes. "I think I'm going to walk a bit."

CJ thought for a moment, then climbed back out ot the cab. "Thanks anyway," she told the driver. As the cab pulled away, she looked at Toby. "Can I come?"

Any impulse to snap sarcastically that she should have asked before she sent the cab away died instantly as he saw the sincere look on her face. "Yeah."

He wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her from stumbling and they started down the sidewalk.

The air was cool for a July night. A light wind swept across their faces.

"I thought you didn't like the outdoors," she asked after a few minutes. 

"This isn't outdoors."

"I'm pretty sure it is," replied CJ.

"It's outdoors," he said, "but, it's not *outdoors* outdoors."

"Now you're just trying to confuse me."

He sighed. "It's not really the outdoors. It's the city with concrete and buildings all around. The outdoors has grass and bugs."

"Ah," nodded CJ.

"You understand?"

"Yeah."

"Are you lying?"

"Yeah." CJ laughed. "You're a tough man to understand, Toby Ziegler."

"Nobody does."

"What about Andy?" She asked it in all innocence, but the moment she said her name, she felt his body tense. He stopped walking, slipping his arm from her waist. She turned to look at him. "Toby?"

His eyes were fixed on the dark sky as lightning flashed several miles away. A storm was coming. "Before she left for New York, she told me she wants a divorce." His voice was barely audible, but the words screamed in her ears, penetrating her drunken state.

"Toby," she whispered.

"It's ironic," continued Toby as if CJ hadn't spoken. "She left me the first time because she said we were fighting too much. She left me this time because she said we never talked."

"Is there anything-"

"No," he cut her off.

She didn't know what to say, when another flash of lightning caught her eye. "We should probably try and catch another cab," she suggested quietly. "It's going to storm soon."

"Yeah."

She reached and grasped his hand tightly and drew him closer. He wrapped his arm around her waist again, and they began to walk again. Resting her head on his shoulder, she pretended not to see the single tear finally escaping his eye to slide down his cheek.


End file.
